


A Prince's Burden

by OneforSorrowTwoforMirth



Series: The Ways of Tea and Failure [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Family Feels, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, One Shot, Sokka and Aang accidentally hide in Azula's room, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko Coronation, another Zuko one shot, just a lil bit of, post Season 3 Zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24684577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneforSorrowTwoforMirth/pseuds/OneforSorrowTwoforMirth
Summary: Zuko made a promise to break his family's cycle of violence and greed. The night before his coronation, he fears he might not be strong enough.
Series: The Ways of Tea and Failure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065143
Comments: 4
Kudos: 171





	A Prince's Burden

The night before his coronation, the crown prince wandered the halls hung with paintings of his ancestors. He sat down and drew his knees up to his chest as his eyes passed over Sozin, Azulon, and finally rested on Ozai. His father’s sour faced, tight-lipped sneer glowered down at him. Zuko shuddered. The same crown in the painting would be on his head tomorrow. 

He thought he might be sick. 

Zuko got up and started walking. There wasn’t a destination in mind, but he soon found himself in the halls of his family’s old quarters. He hadn’t been anywhere near that wing since coming back. These halls seemed dimmer than the others, with only a few lamps lit. The floor creaked. The drafts seemed to carry Azula’s laughter, his mother’s soft voice, his father’s disapproving stare.

He passed his parents’ rooms. They’d never slept in the same room and it took Zuko until he was nine to realize that wasn’t normal. Part of him itched to go inside. He ignored it. Down the hall to his right was Azula’s room. He almost passed it too when something rustled. Zuko froze.

Slowly, he opened the door. 

Two of his friends sat on the floor inside. 

“Sokka?! Aang? What are you doing in here?!”

They looked up. “Oh hi Zuko,” Sokka said, “Just sharpening my boomerang.” He held up the tool and stone, completely unconcerned. 

“They’re fixing the roof outside our room and it woke us up, so I figured we’d just find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Is that ok?” Aang asked.

“Um,” Zuko leaned against the doorframe. Seeing anyone else in Azula’s room was so bizarre. “I guess. But why here?” 

Sokka shrugged. “It seemed empty. Why? Are we not supposed to be in here? Sorry! It’s just when you said we could pick any room -” 

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just- nevermind.” He moved to sit next to his friends, movements still stiff from the bandages wrapped around his chest. 

“They fixing the roof outside your room too?” Sokka asked.

“No...just can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, figures,” Sokka said, sheathing his boomerang, 

“Coronation jitters?” Aang asked. Zuko shrugged. “It’s ok. The same thing happened to me the night before the invasion. I kept dreaming I went to fight your dad but I forgot my pants.” 

Zuko looked between the two boys trying to determine if it was a joke. Sokka nodded, dead serious. Aang lay back on the floor, hands behind his head. 

“But don’t worry. Tomorrow will go great.”

“I’m not worried about tomorrow," Zuko said.

“Good!”

“I’m just worried about all the days after that.” 

“Zuko,” Aang said, “We’ve been over this already, you’re going to be a great Firelord. You’re not going to do this alone.”

“I know,” he said, through gritted teeth. He loved the kid, but his optimism often bordered on irritating. 

“You know, Zuko,” Sokka said quietly, “Iroh would probably stay if you asked him to.” The way Sokka seemed to always cut right to what was really bothering him was _also_ irritating. 

“I know he would. Which is why I’m not going to ask.”

“Ba Sing Se isn’t so far,” Aang said encouragingly.

Zuko made no reply. He glanced over to the tapestry on the wall. His old room had had tapestries but they’d caught fire. Or rather they’d been set on fire. By Ozai. At age four, Zuko had shown no signs of bending, so Ozai used his favorite parenting tactic: fear. His nurse had rescued him. The poor girl was banished the next day. 

_I hate this place,_ he thought, tearing his gaze from the hangings. 

“You guys can stay in my room tonight,” Zuko said, “It’s big enough.” 

“We don’t mind this one,” Aang said. 

“Yeah, but this is Azula’s old room so there’s probably a dead body or a death trap here somewhere.”

Sokka and Aang agreed that Zuko’s room sounded fine. 

He told them he’d follow. He meant to. But as he passed his mother’s door on the way back, he found himself opening it. The room was musty but it still carried a faint whiff of the perfume he remembered. Memory was as thick as the dust on the windowsill. 

The last time he’d been in here was the day of his father’s coronation. He remembered running, Azula’s taunts in his ears, and bursting into his mother’s room, only to find it empty. He was too shocked to do anything but cry. Then came his father’s harsh voice, barking at a maid to clean him up and if he hadn’t stopped crying by the coronation, he’d teach him a lesson he’d never forget. 

“It is not wise to dwell on ghosts,” said an old and familiar voice behind him, “But sometimes it is necessary to revisit doors that never properly closed.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I happened to be taking a walk,” Iroh said with a smile. “Your friends said you might need some company. And perhaps some tea,”

Zuko tried to smile back.

“What troubles you, nephew?”

He almost snapped ‘nothing,’ but caught himself. He was done insisting on hoarding his fear and anger. A hard habit to break, but he figured he'd start with his uncle. 

“I was just thinking…”

He looked around the room. He let his fingers rest lightly on the couch next to the door. His mother had let him sleep there when he had a bad dream. She always put him back in his room before Azula (or worse, his father) could notice his absence. 

_Our family is not always what it seems._ He remembered Iroh saying that. Understatement of the century. 

“I want to find her,” Zuko said, “But after all Ozai did to her...she deserves a quiet life. A peaceful life. Maybe if I try to find her I’ll only make things worse.” 

“Are you afraid, perhaps?” Iroh asked.

“I didn’t blame her for leaving.”

_His hand was halfway to his mother’s door, he froze with fear as his parents shouted at one another. Something was knocked over. The scuffle of feet. His mother’s voice, shrill,_

_Let go of me, Ozai!_

“But I was angry. For so long...I wondered why she didn’t take me with her. Sometimes I wondered, did she see _him_ in my face? ” The words felt childish as they tumbled from him. He knew that his mother had been protecting him. He knew that his father must’ve promised something terrible should she return, and yet these fears had never truly left him. 

“What if she looks at me…” he whispered, “And hates me?” He glanced at his uncle, desperate for assurance he could not give. Iroh turned to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh, Zuko." The gentleness in his voice made it possible for Zuko to look him in the eye. "Your mother was a woman of many sorrows, but her greatest joy was you. Do not be afraid.” 

Once, Zuko would’ve covered his tears with rage, but now he let them fall, only slightly embarrassed. Iroh let him collect himself before suggesting they continue walking. He was only too glad to do so and let Iroh lead the way.

As they walked, Iroh asked, “What else troubles you?” 

“I’m just...worried.”

“Have you spoken to your friends about your anxieties?”

“My friends,” those words still felt foreign in his mouth. “They’re kinder than I deserve. They’re as dedicated to seeing the world put back in balance as I am but some things...they can’t understand. Trying to restore the four nations, I can do that. And if I can’t, I have people who will help me. But this…” he gestured to the hall, to the gilded prison he had called home for so many years. “How can I make sense of this, Uncle?! I _deposed_ my father, my sister is insane, my mother has been missing for _years,_ and you -” he tried to stop himself, “You’re leaving me!”

Iroh sighed deeply and looked away. Zuko felt his stomach clench as he caught the intense guilt in his uncle’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Uncle. That wasn’t fair. You’re- you’re not leaving me - but- but I’m scared!” 

“Come,” Iroh said, “Let’s have something to drink.” Iroh led the way to his room, which had much of the original furniture removed. A banner of the White Lotus hung beside the one bearing the Fire Nation emblem. He began preparing tea, still refusing to look at Zuko.

Zuko slumped at the low table, his left hand nervously gripping his hair. He was exhausted and, now that the words had been said, terrified. Ruling the Fire Nation with the help of his friends and the experience he’d already gained would be hard, but possible. 

Making sense of himself? Breaking a cycle of greed, violence, madness, and cruelty that ran generations deep? He didn’t know. 

“Here you are,” Iroh handed him a cup. “A new brew, I blended it myself. I need help naming it.” 

Zuko took a sip. “Maybe ask Sokka. He likes naming things.” 

Iroh chuckled and drank his own. 

“Uncle, I’m sorry I said that. Taking the throne is my destiny, I know. And you’ve done so much for me. I _want_ you to be able to live the simple life you’ve earned.” 

“There is no apology necessary, Zuko. I understand that you are scared, scared of the unknown. I don’t have all the answers for you. But I will be only a letter away. Besides, as firelord, you can summon me any time you like and I won’t be able to refuse!” 

Zuko let himself smile. 

“Come,” Iroh rose and opened a door into a room adjoining his. “Stay here tonight.” It was another bedroom, clean but long unused. Some of the furniture was covered. 

“But uncle...this is Lu Ten’s room.”

“I know.”

“But - but I can’t -”

“Lu Ten grew up with the burdens of being the crown prince. He had many fears - would he be ready, would he be just, would he be strong? Fears you share, my nephew.”

This took Zuko aback. “Lu Ten? But...he always seemed so - so - confident and brave. He had you to teach him, uncle. How could he have ever worried about being a good leader?” 

“My son _was_ a confident and brave man. He was always praised as such. And that is why he felt that to be anything else meant he was failing me.” Iroh sighed, “I let him go alone, when I should have reminded him that I would always be here if he had need of me.” 

“Uncle, I -” 

“Sleep here tonight, Zuko. I will be next door. If you have need of me.” 

  
  



End file.
